Obsessions For Angels and Demons
by Tigerdust
Summary: A certain stalker becomes obsessed with what a certain demon hunter may or may not know. Only one thing is clear: Danger is never more present than when being stalked by the artful and jealous Angelus. Slash,torture, naughty bits.
1. Chapter 1

"You're not impressing me yet. For a human caught in a demon bar, I would think you would have more resilience than to get yourself caught." Dean merely glared at a spot beyond Angelus, trying to shut out that nauseating voice and that screaming pain running through the nerve endings off his shoulder. The way the shadows moved, Dean calculated that it had been four hours since he had been locked in this vulnerable position.

When he responded, Dean's voice was thick with thirst and gravel. "Yeah, and for someone who can kick a lot of underling ass, you're sure taking your sweet time with me."

Angelus chuckled as he laid his palm across the cool silver tray laden with gleaming and rusted instruments of all types. "Arrogance and pride. The good guys must love you on their team."

"I do what I need to."

Angelus smiled as he crooked his head, examining Dean's shirtless form at an angle while grabbing a slim silver object from the table. "Well, thats good. Then you're going to tell me the truth. I might let you live if you're smart enough."

"What is it you think I know exactly?"

"Don't insult my intelligence boy. I've killed more people than you've ever saved."

Dean looked up at the ceiling, trying to see where the twisted angles of the cascading chains went. "Yeah, well, depending upon who you talk to, popular opinion might say otherwise."

Angelus took a moment to slide the round part of the object with the inlaid silver decoration onto his pinky finger. The slim metal dagger lay over the finger and extended half a feet into a diamond sharp point. "Cute. Lets see how cute you are when you scream."

Dean's nostrils flared. "I wouldn't give you the honor."

Angelus licked his lips, clearly delighted. "Just for your reference, before your body decides to eek out just a bit of adrenaline to keep you from letting the pain get too bad, you might want to remember my name, kid. My name is Angelus, last master of the Order."

Dean tensed his shoulders enough so that he could swing around with his numb feet and belt Angelus across the breadbasket. Angelus collapsed in on himself from the feeling of having steel-toed shoes hit his stomach. "Yeah, well, name's Dean Winchester. But you can call me your worst nightmare."

Angelus cursed as he raised his head, game face full on. "God, you're so much like Xander!"

With a feeling of pleasurable vengeance, Angelus stuck the slim pinky knife between the ribs of Dean's rib cage. The flesh once cut open to take out his appendix bled bright red. Taking large, shallow breaths, Dean focused on his rage and tried to send a message to Castiel, who was supposed to be able to hear him.

"Not a word? Pity." Angelus whimpered in Dean's ear as he dug around, bringing the knife out after a few moments. Dean seethed as Angelus brought the knife up to his cheek bone and lovingly scraped Dean's own blood across his face. "Know what's fun about being tortured by a vampire?"

"I'm sure you're gonna tell me."

"Damn skippy, hero." Angelus hissed as he brought his mouth cascading down Dean's body until he had reached the open wound. "The best thing about being a vampire is the healing ability." Darting his tongue along the opening, he scraped and spat until Dean could feel the wound sealing shut. "And after the first hundred years, you don't miss the sunlight."

"You are one twisted fuck, whatever kind of vampire you are."

Angelus bowed when he took a step back, admiring just a thin trace of blood leaking down the cheek of Dean Winchester and stopping just short of the boy's lips. "I'll take that as a great endorsement of my prowess. You ready to talk or do I need to make another hole?"

Dean bit down on his lip. He just had to hold this guy off a little while longer, hopefully. "Fine. Lets say I know what the hell you're prattling on about, what makes you think I'm going to tell you anything?"

Angelus blinked while considering his answer. "Dru would have been better about getting the location of Natherra from your lips, but I know that pain has lots of persuasion all on its own. Now, its true I have the ability to strip of a man of his skin, of that I have no doubt, but I am still rusty and quite eager to cut someone open with a chainsaw. We didn't have those last time I did this."

Dean nodded begrudgingly. "Then I guess I should feel honored. I don't know anything about Natherra, thats not even what I'm in town for."

Angelus breathed in sharply through his nose. "For sake of argument, lets say that I believe you. However, Mr. Winchester, I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't ask why you had the plans to the old Hyperion Hotel in your trunk with all those lovely weapons?"

Growling angrily, Dean flailed, trying to give himself enough leverage to swing out of the chains with his sweaty grasp and tangled hands. "You broke into my baby?"

Angelus rolled his eyes, taking the pinky ring off slowly and advancing again toward Dean. "Aye. I suppose many things change, but a man's love for his own brawn does not. When I was first created, it was not more than a gelding would make a man have pride. Now it is still a Mustang, but so much more."

"I will kill you, I promise."

Angelus circled Dean like a shark. "I'm sure you do. A promise of pride, perhaps. Going to defend the honor of your steed, so very noble. But being noble must get tiring from time to time. You are, after all, nothing more than man."

Dean recoiled when Angelus splayed his fingers over the chest. "Mere man, no matter how sculpted. You sweat and bleed and piss and love and do all the things that other mortals do. And yet, you are nothing like them...or are you?"

Dean jolted when Angelus grabbed his package. "You didn't think I wasn't going to smell the lust rolling off you? Must get you hard being under my control, doesn't it Winchester? You must be an older brother or an only child, always the caregiver."

"Take your filthy hands off me."

Instead of complying, Angelus changed his features once again back to game face, only forcing his hands to follow. The sharp claws that used to be his fingernails ran the course of the seams holding together Dean's pants. Strips of fabric and boxers fell to the floor. Even with the heat and sweat in the building, Dean felt cold and exposed. He was not a fan of this.

Angelus admired the boy for a moment. His proportions were unique in that they were so very proportionate. He had his lions share of manhood and a good set of definition in the legs. Angelus apprised the body from shoulder to ankle, pronouncing it grade A with a hard slap on Dean's rump.

"At least you have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Thanks. Now that you've had your peak, you're gonna let me go " Dean growled angrily, as though he were going to burn a hole through the vampire.

Angelus chuckled. "I really can't do that, what would the others think that have been tortured before you? But, alas, if you don't care for foreplay, I'm happy to provide the main event." Angelus took a moment to savour what he was going to say to Dean, in a quivering and excited whisper in the young man's ear. "I'm going to pop your cherry with my barbed hand and then spread it so you bleed internally. Its a very slow death. You'll beg me to turn you. And maybe that will lend itself to my mercy, Winchester."

Angelus stepped back for a moment as Dean started to spin and flail until flecks of blood welled up at his wrist. "Quite finished, my boy? Now then, onto the best part of my torturing day."

One firm hand grabbed Dean's ass cheeks while a single gentle finger guided itself into the squirming depths of Dean's tight ass. Dean let out a cry, tossing his head back with abandon. The top of his head leaked a bit of pre-cum since Angelus knew exactly where and how to hit the prostate.

"Enjoying yourself, boy?"

Lights that had been flickering due to the old generator began to pop, one by one. Angelus pulled out and Dean went limp. He could withstand a lot of things and now he knew he wouldn't have to withstand much more.

"That is quite enough."

Angelus fell to his knees. The voice began to shred his ears until he was grabbing them to try and alleviate some of the tearing pain.

"Dean," The panicked yet calculating voice kicked Angelus out of the way with a surprising thud and then broke the chains at Dean's wrist.

Dean slumped down into Castiel's arms. "Hell of a timing, man. Hell of a timing."

"Who are you?" Angelus shrieked in a raging bellow as he staggered to his feet, ready to kill.

"Castiel, his guardian angel."

"What?!"

But Angelus was merely talking to himself. Dean and Castiel were already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank God, you're....bleeding." Sammy took a step back from the bed.

Dean was comatose and falling slowly from Castiel's shoulder. Castiel's kneels buckled as he was grabbing for the bed.

"Shit!" Sam lunged in by his shoulder, taking the brunt of Dean's stomach as he fell on his back to the floor. Three sets of legs were tangled together, Sam's feet planted firmly between Castiel's knelt form. Sam took a moment to extradite himself before surveying the damage.

Pulling Dean out of Castiel's wearied grip by the collar, he put his ear to his brother's mouth and listened to the almost calm and yet slightly labored breathing.

"Stay with me, Dean."

"Sammy?" His voice was groggy and his eyes were closed, but he was responsive. "We have to find..."

"No, stay with me." Sam's voice rose in panic, no matter how he tried to delay it. Dean was going in and out of consciousness. Sam took quick stock of the medical and food supplies in the room, thanking God they had enough between the room and the Impala to give him a week to work with before anything more drastic became necessary.

Beginning to comprehend the fact that Dean was indeed naked when he had definently left with clothing, Sam put the itching worry in the back of his mind that Dean's wallet and at least one of his aliases were floating about. At the moment, he was breathing, but probably not too dehydrated. Unfortunately, Sam could tell he was suffering from the beginning stages of heat exhaustion, especially evident in his fingers, forehead, and the way he was sweating from his underarms when they weren't shaking.

"Okay, one problem at a time. Lets get you into bed, bro, and then assess your rescuer."

Grunting as he attempted a firemans carry, Sam brought Dean up to his knees. Sam began groaning and pushing until he found himself laying on a bed with his brother crashed and spread out on top of him in a tenuous state of consciousness. Blinking with wide eyes, Sam murmured to himself. "It never gets easier."

Rolling himself out from under Dean, Sam found his brother completely inactive but, thank God, still breathing. Gripping Dean's arm, Sam forced his brother to turn and placed him under the sheet so that he'd be as comfortable as possible.

Taking a couple of staggering steps back, he grabbed a glass on the desk table nearby that was littered with a cornucopia of junk. Pouring half a bottle of water into glass, he slammed it back with a large gulp. Shaking his head, he emptied the other half of the bottle into a glass and then put in a powder mixture that would help Dean, a trick he had learned from Jo in what seemed like ancient times.

Placing the water and powder mixture onto the nightstand between the two beds, one now disheveled and full of a naked Dean, he turned to the half squatting and half laying angel that was starting to come to on the floor.

"Dean."

Sam rushed over, trying to help Castiel up from the floor, but he knew it was a mistake the moment he placed his arm under Castiel's arm. Castiel started to swing which caused Sam to fly back a little and bounce off of Dean's bed. Castiel slurred groggily as he collapsed back on the ground.

"Oh great." Sam sighed from his place on the floor, thinking that maybe it was time to reassess his position on Team Free Will.

Walking over to another bottle of water on the table, he turned over a clean portion of towel that he had been using to clean the inside parts of a revolver with. Turning the bottle upside down, it soaked the half white rag. Sam ran the towel over his face to clean up the minor bleeding spots that Castiel had given him.

Dipping the towel in the water for a second time, he walked over to the closed eyes of Castiel and admired his sleeping form, seeing the furrowed lines in his brow and how they connected for the first time. Cleaning away the now dried dots of blood welling out of Castiel's pores, he realized that the angel's vessel simply wasn't going to be able to withstand further teleportation, which would be a great blow to Dean's morale that he was hiding desperately under the sarcastic veneer.

Having cleaned up Castiel's face, Sam slapped it gently until Castiel groaned back to life.

"Thank you, Sam. Is Dean..."

Sam nodded, as he reached out his hand so he could help Castiel back up. Castiel's knees were still incredibly wobbly and it took more than a few seconds to maneuver him so he could sit comfortably on the empty bed.

"He's resting."

Castiel nodded in return. "That's good. He didn't suffer any internal injuries that I could tell, but we'll need to watch over him."

Sam caught Castiel's gaze in the interim of silence. "What happened? One moment you two were in contact outside a demon bar and next..."

"Whoever it was is very dangerous, Sam. You don't need angelic powers to tell you that man is evil, reckless, dangerous."

"Was he possessed...do we have to worry about...?"

Castiel shook his head slowly. "No. Please, though, just a bit of water first."

Sam nodded, trying to keep his knees from trembling as Castiel took a gulp of water and began telling Sam what had transpired right before he had used a lot of his angelic reserves to rescue Dean from a very insane and apparently dangerous individual whom had just happened to be at the bar the same night Dean was looking for information on something. At least they had the Impala where they were, safely far in a different state from the bar. Thank god for rental loans, Sam thought.

"Well, we're safe for right now," Sam sighed.

"I hit you. I apologize." Castiel stated bluntly as he watched Sam move with a choppy motion along his arm.

Sam peeled his shirt away from shoulder, noticing the blotch of bruises that were already forming. "Nah, don't be. You came up swinging. I don't blame you. Just wish we had more info on this guy. He has one of Dean's aliases and it ain't gonna be pretty if we don't find out anything about him."

Castiel's eyes were searching for somewhere he could look in the room that was not Dean's bed. "It's my fault. I was hasty in rescue, didn't take time to observe details."

"You can't blame yourself, man. You saved my brother's life." Sam placed his arm on Castiel's shoulder in a show of solidarity. They were both too worried about Dean being comatose to concentrate on much else.

Somewhere a few states away, Dean was also the subject of quite a bit of ire.

"Where in the hell does he get off having a guardian angel?"

Angelus was sitting on his throne, tapping his claws in his mahogany chairs until their were dents. He had thrown a tantrum upon arrival, storming his rage upon two fledglings until they both staked themselves just to escape his ire. The remaining lower portions of his court had scattered and no one could be sure in the higher ranks if they should even worry about the ashy debris.

"Tell me something good about this guy. You've had time. No one's even bothered to clean up the ashes yet!"

"I'll go get a..."

Even a prince of the court can make a mistake. The deer in headlights look was unmistakable as Angelus flew at him from his chair, grabbing him by the collar until his cold breath was growling. "And why has it taken you so long to retrieve a broom and clean up the mess you made?"

The prince stuttered, but was saved by a dreamy female voice. "Daddy, don't destroy any more of your toy army. That simply will not do. Lets have a play first."

Tossing the prince away from his fingers with disgust, Angelus smirked, his mind hazy with lust and anger. "Of course, Drusilla. Without you, I would lose my head."

Drusilla floated around Angelus' ornate throne on its raised platform that overlooked the abandoned funeral parlor in LA that had once belonged to the necromancer. It had fantastic floors of authentic Italian marble and dark mahogany libraries. It had all the atmosphere of the old Sunnydale mansion without any of those bothersome vampire slayers to muck about the place.

"Come."

Angelus extended a single regal claw and the prince of the court with the broom, who gulped and began to shiver. For all his power and prestige, he was still a fledgling and he quaked each time he thought of Angelus and the road of destruction that lay both before and behind him.

"Master, I..."

Angelus grimaced darkly as he reached out for the prince's throat. "That does not require speech. How young are you?"

Drusilla giggled. "Silly daddy, he can't answer if he can't speak at all."

"That's the point, Dru." Angelus answered through gritted fangs. "But he doesn't even show initiative. I wonder if he's good for anything."

Drusilla moaned. "His fear is delicious. Make his eyeballs turn in the back of his head."

Angelus nodded at the terrified prince. "Gotta give my girl what she wants. Guess what, young one? You have a chance to sit in the chair." In a flash, Angelus had tightened his grip on the throat, twisting it in his hand as he bent the prince over the chair while he ground his burgeoning bulge from behind. "Of course, its probably not the way you want it."

"Make him scream, Daddy." Drusilla purred as she slashed the boy's cheek with her nails.

"I'm gonna do to you what that angel interrupted."

Angelus didn't bother ripping off the boy's clothes. He tore a slit where the ass was in the black khaki fabric and then unzipped his own pants. Pumping his cock in and out of his own hands, he growled.

"Feels good. You ready for this boy? Be glad you can heal."

Angelus shoved his uncut cock in the prince without lube or a condom. The prince screamed as black, congealed blood leaked from his hole just slightly. Angelus' long, hard cock pierced him, breaking his hymen and hitting him beyond his prostate.

"Must be nice to get fucked by the great Angelus, huh? Isn't it an honor? You gonna tell me?" Angelus punctuated each question with a deeper pound, a quicker thrust, until the boy fell to the side of the chair in pain. He was dazed enough that he fell to the floor the moment that Angelus grabbed him by the scruff of the neck to reset him.

"I don't think he was up to the task, daddy."

Angelus looked down at his cock and shook his head as he wanked himself quickly, spilling a load all over the shocked prince's face before tucking himself in. "You know what Dru? You're right. Never send a boy to do a man's job."

Drusilla's eyes sparkled. "Are you bringing down the man with the angel?"

Angelus chuckled as he thought of Dean begging to be fucked raw, screaming and begging and pleading until Angelus gouged every hole he had a couple that he could make. "And everyone he knows. C'mon, Dru, lets go find some food to play with. Hell hath no fury like the hungry before a long trip."

Drusilla clapped her hands with glee. "Can I have a young one, fresh from a game Daddy?"

Angelus offered his arm, which she accepted as they exited the building. "You can have whatever you want. You just have to finish off the young prince before we leave."


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?"

Castiel tightened his lips as he turned to Sam. "We have no choice. There are monetary issues to consider."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, that doesn't make me feel any better."

Castiel gave a short sigh. "I know. But Dean has sufficient shelter, food, water, and a way to contact us if necessary."

"And you're sure these blood spells will hold?" Sam added as an afterthought.

Castiel stared at Sam without blinking. "Your brother trusts my judgment."

Sam scoffed in return. "Yeah, but dude, you had a lot more power last time you had to go on a hunt with us. It seems like a practical nightmare to do this with Dean laid up and you barely recovered from the transport."

"I know. If there were a different option, it would be easier to take. But we'll only be gone for a short time. Dean is resourceful. The best way to assist right now is to keep him safe and give him space to process whats happened."

Sam reached for the doorknob after putting his coat on. "I hate it when you're right sometimes."

Castiel followed him out of the door with a look back to Dean. "That does not mean there will be a less correct choice to follow."

Dean heard the conversations in jagged bouts of consciousness. His eyes blinked slowly as he took in the room, though he were an underwater diver. Dean was disconcerted with not knowing exactly how long he had been asleep, even aware that his body needed to heal and that Sam and Cas had been looking out for him. Truth was, he was never sure he would feel physically freshed again after something like this happened.

Trying to lift himself up from the covers, the first sensation Dean felt was his atrophied muscles. He growled to himself as he fell back onto the bed. He sighed, just registering the fact that his torturer now had one of his fake wallets that he took on missions. Luckily, he knew that identification linked that person to a jail cell in Oklahoma, so he was at least in a different state. Hopefully, that would dissuade the monster from chasing him across state lines, which would be enough for now.

He could hear the voice of Angelus in his head, taunting him, which caused Dean to wretch into his pillow. He could feel the acid boiling over in his system and he gasped for breath when he was done. Dragging himself away from the vomit, he tried to stand on his knees and found they were the only part of his body that wasn't weak. He tried to walk, even though he was dragging the blankets off the bed with him.

Dean couldn't think of a time that he'd seen himself more banged up without any sort of mark on himself. He was glad for the privacy of the room and for whatever reason Sam and Cas had left. Dean could smell the blood spells all around the place and he ducked his head into the sink as he vomited a second time. Fumbling with his thin fingers, he turned on the cold tap. He tried to gulp in the stinging air and the colder water, but nothing would go down his throat. He trembled at the thought that he might have blacked out during the torture and not remembered everything.

_Nothing as bad as what happened in hell. Nothing as bad as what happened in hell._ Dean tried to keep repeating the phrase to himself, as though it would ward him from the diseases he was imagining crawling over his skin, through his very pores. Angelus had touched him, literally, cutting him open and sewing him back up. He could have left God knows what bacteria under the skin.

An irrational moment of panic struck the Winchester boy and he tore back the curtain on the shower, turning the water as hot as it would go. He watched the air as it became steam and watched the steam fill the space, fill his pores, and all the rest of the room besides. Dean stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain tight, as thought it were a protective barrier.

His entire body screamed as it turned red and raw with the heat, just short of any kind of burn. Ripping savagely into the small bar of wrapped soap, he hoped for a scent to cover the stench and found nothing. He began with his scalp, working his way over every surface with a sort of futile desperation that left every knot of tension in his back and his abs and his ass with further pain. He wanted to inhale the bar, absorb it.

But there was no time. There was a burst of activity, shouts and the slam of a door. Dean reacted quickly, turning the water off and pushing the curtain back.

"Dean?"

He breathed easier. It was Sammy's voice.

"I'm okay." His gruff voice sounded foreign, even to him. "Just in here."

He took a towel from the bar even though parts of his body were still caked with soap. He rubbed himself quickly so that Sam and Castiel would not be alarmed and then wrapped the towel around his waist.

Castiel's voice couldn't hide the surprise and relief he felt. "You're awake."

Dean nodded. "Yeah and no worse for wear."

There was a moment as they took each other in. Sam and Castiel on one side, covered in deep green goo and feeling like they needed to apologize for something while Dean stood there, raw and silent and hurting without even knowing how to express it.

Sam broke the spell, afraid that the green goo was seeping in his ears. "Is there any hot water left?"

Dean nodded hesitantly. "Wasn't in there too long."

Sam nodded in return as he walked past Dean, almost putting a hand on his shoulder and then thinking the better of it. Closing the door behind him, Dean and Castiel continued staring at each other.

"How are you, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Not covered in green goo, so I guess I have one leg up on you guys."

Castiel walked over toward the table and took a swig of water. "I have two legs, Dean."

Dean ignored Castiel's inability to process pop culture references and turned away from the angel, opening a dresser drawer on the other side of the room. He stopped as he opened the drawer where his boxers and pants were. His pulse started to race as though he were having a panic attack.

"Cas..."

Cas stopped where he was at the table. "Did you need something, Dean?"

"Don't...don't look at me..."

"Dean, I..."

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean growled harshly. "Just do it."

Castiel nodded slowly. "Okay."

Dean parted his lips as he listened to Castiel's feet walk over the carpet and then the sound of an opening and closing door behind. He heard a yowl from the startled Sam as Castiel handed him a towel. The thought brought a slight smirk to his lips and yet....

Pulling the clothes from the drawer, they felt thick in his hands. They were beautiful to feel against his skin, a protective layer. He imagined the feeling of the Colt like it was an extension of his own righteous indignation and he suddenly felt that warmth that always came with the assurance that things could turn out all right.

Sam exited the bathroom, towel slung over his shoulder. "Man, next time you're gonna send Cas in..."

Dean turned to Sam and interrupted the start of Sam's thought. "We need to know who the guy was and what he was after. Then we decide if we regroup and take him down or if we make a wide path out of his way."

Sam's face popped with an oh as he walked over the dresser and opened up a drawer near Dean. Dean stepped back, not wanting Sam to be too near him. "Okay. We'll follow your lead on this."

"I suspect we've used up all the hot water." Castiel announced this as he opened the door stark naked and found Sam throwing a shirt and a pair of jeans at him.

"Yeah. Thats what happens when you come in looking like you battled Slimer. What the hell were you guys up too?" Dean folded his arms as he waited for a response.

Sam shrugged. "We found this kid that was conjuring up deadly food he didn't like when his mom was trying to feed him. Had to exorcise him, but the demon didn't fight too hard. Made enough to keep us afloat for a little while."

"Way to think on your feet, Sammy."

Castiel broke into the moment. "What do we know about the man that took your wallet?"

Dean looked down at the carpet. "I think we might need to look for his name. Um...Angles? Anlegis? Angelus....yeah, lets try that."

Sam headed to the laptop, opening it up and taking it from standby mode. Typing the name into a database he had found, Castiel had to back up when Sam scooted back from the screen.

"What is it?" Dean's voice piqued with curiosity.

"Dean, this guy is bad news. He has his own listing in a variety of demonic encyclopedia. Maybe we should just leave this be."

Castiel caught Dean's glance. "I'm afraid that I must concur with Sam. Gathering information on this man may raise red flags, which will garner attention to ourselves."

"Yeah, I know. But this guy knows who I am and I will not be afraid of something, hiding in the dark like a coward. We're gonna do the search and see what we find."

Sam took a deep breath and clicked on the first link. "Alright."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean sat in the car, knuckles white from his grip on the steering wheel. It was another easy case, right across the state line. Evidence showed an actual boogey man that was terrorizing a two-kid family from inside their closet. When would humans learn not to buy foreclosed homes without researching first? The family had been eager to move into their dream town in their little dream house. And hunters reaped the rewards of people being stupid, eager, and living in a culture of gentrification.

_To get him on the hunt, Sam had practically begged Dean to come along with those puppy dog eyes of his. "You've got to get out of the house sometime." _

_Dean had winced a little. "I'm a liability on hunts right now Sam. Whats bugging you?"_

_Sam had shook his head in response. "Look, I'm not complaining that you're doing all the research and weapon cleaning and stuff. I'm happy to do what I can to help us get along, but Dean man, you're the hunter in this family."_

_The growl in Dean's throat betrayed the fact that he disagreed. "What do you think dad would say to hear that?"_

_Sam shrugged. "I don't know. He always knew I had a better head for law and such. I mean, when I met that chick from Wolfram and Hart when she passed through the school, she said that she liked my style and thought that..."_

_Dean had exploded then, whether out of frustration or anger was unclear. "Bullshit. You know as well as I do what Wolfram and Hart is good for. You were being conned, you told me as much." As if trying to make a point, Dean had crushed the plastic motel cup in his hand. Almost wishing it were glass so that he could feel the sting of slivers cutting up his hand, Dean had tossed it away in the nearest waist basket. _

_Sam had blinked, not moving from the edge of the bed to either defend himself or entertain the argument. "It's not that its any less flattering though."_

_Castiel had been sitting in a chair next to the laptop with a ziploc bag of ice cradled against a giant goose egg he had gotten when he had caught the side of a bookshelf assisting the Winchester boys in the last hunt. Cas had been chewing on his bottom lip and then decided to interject into the conversation, something which he usually did after the light arguments of the brothers had abated. "I agree with Sam. You should be out on the hunt and back where you belong. Angelus cannot be allowed to steal who you are, along with everything else."_

_Sam had motioned over the angel. "See! Two against one!"_

_Dean had muttered under his breath, something jokingly. "It was a mistake getting you two together if you're gonna gang up on me."_

_Cas shook his head. "I don't believe it was a mistake, Dean. Its wiser for all to be in one mindset."_

Now, much like during that earlier conversation, Dean had simply just shook his head slowly. He had frozen up on this first job back in the field and had tried gracefully, fumblingly to make his way back to the Impala under the guise of getting something out of the car. The engine was running but Dean was just gripping the wheel and blinking through the sweat while shaking his head.

"I should get back in there."

"Start the car!" Sam shouted as he exited the house, long legs sprawling out with a wild grin spread across his face. Vaulting down the steps with Castiel in tow, he stepped across the headlights and yanked open the passenger door with Castiel in tow. "I can't believe you missed that, Dean!"

"Missed what?" Dean looked in the rear view mirror at Castiel who had that rather pensive, thought-filled look on his face, never a good sign.

Sam responded in mid-chuckle. "It was just brilliant!"

"Cas?" Dean was still looking in the rear view mirror.

"I simply stated what I was thinking."

Sam was in process of closing the door so they could drive off. "It was like watching a talk show...tell me how you feel about..."

Castiel had lowered a mask on his thought process, Dean could see his face changing as he pulled onto the main road. Dean hated that Cas was taking on human traits like that. He'd been hanging out with the brothers for far too long. "I was merely trying to reason with him as an unhappy creature."

Sam's was clearly delighted to refute the argument. "You were trying to convert him. That's not what I meant when I told you to distract him."

Castiel had shrugged in Sam's direction from the backseat. "It got the job done." And that's where they would have lapsed into a comfortable driving silence until Castiel poked his head in their thoughts about five minutes later. "Dean, have you considered therapy?"

"That's a little off-topic, Cas. And besides, hunting is, was, my therapy."

"But you were unable to perform your duties."

Sam turned from the front seat. "Cas, we hunters don't have therapy. There's nobody that could figure out all the crap in our head."

"Besides," Dean added, "even the best hunters have dry spells every now and then. I'll get back on the horse, don't you worry."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "But I don't think I've ever seen you use a horse when capturing a maleficent spirit."

Dean rolled his eyes, but it was clear that Sam was in good spirits as he turned to tease Dean. "Maybe they make like an erectile dysfunction pill for hunters? You know, when you care enough to..."

Dean shot mock daggers in Sam's direction. "I can throw you out of this car, you know."

Sam tossed his hands up in the air. "Just trying to help, bro."

They rode in silence back to the motel room. Once inside, Sam headed over to laptop. After a few minutes of clicking, he heard the sound of Dean taking a large belt of whiskey. He bit down on his lip, unsure of how Dean would take this news.

"Sammy, something you want to share with the class?"

Sam shook his head, far too quickly. "No, nothing all at. Not yet...I mean..."

Castiel had poured himself into a chair after depositing the weaponry he had carried in his coat onto the table. He sat up straighter. "Secrets are divisive, Sam."

Sam's rate of clicking keys increased three fold. "I know. But I don't want to alarm anyone unnecessarily."

Dean wandered over, cocking his head as he held onto the shot glass. "What is it?"

Sam looked up at his brother, who was trying to decode the mess of numbers and symbols on the program that Sam was running. "An IP cache. Someone's been watching us since last Thursday when you had me run a search."

"Damn," Dean cursed under his breath, "friend or foe?"

Sam shrugged. "We will know in a moment." He went back to typing, just briefly stopping to address Dean again. "I didn't want to worry anyone just yet, until I figure out whose doing the cyber stalking."

Castiel was staring at Sam intently from across the table, as though sheer force of will would give either of them answers. "And what is it you've been able to surmise?"

Sam nodded as he talked and typed in a singular groove. "Fluid accounts. Good for someone who doesn't want to be traced, amateur like us with just a touch ingenuity beyond what I've seen. Weeding through the fake stuff and random websites will take a few minutes. Luckily, its all software decoding."

Dean took another drink and then hid the bottle so he wasn't tempted with a third. "Good. Home turf. Get me some info so we know if we've caught the bastard trailing us." Dean's voice turned thin and angry in an instant.

Sam's fingers stopped as he watched someone enter into his IP cache program and begin to fiddle. He bit down on his lip again and sighed. I wonder if they know that I'm watching them do this, he thought. If they know the program is running....

Taking a second to make a calculated risk, he decided to leave a little deciphering issue for the cyber ghost that was haunting the technology. Working under the rumored assumption that they could track the address and knew everything about what was going on right now with Team Free Will, Sam left a free standing, noncommittal AIM address dropped into the riddle at a part of the code that they hadn't reached yet. Standing to yawn and take a piss in the bathroom, Sam addressed his brother and his brother's guardian angel. "Okay, let me know in about ten minutes if one of my AIM addies pop up."

Dean narrowed his eyes at his brother with a questioning glance. "Sure..."

In seven minutes, one of the AIM addresses did indeed pop up.

"Sammy..." Dean growled and pointed to the laptop screen, "you wanna do the honors?"

Sam nodded as he sat down and cracked his knuckles. "Let's see what we can find out."

Five frustrating and vague minutes later, Castiel added in an invaluable suggestion which led to Sam typing in a phrase that led to a ghost Skype account that the mystery hacker was using and suggested. Sam crooked his eyebrow at Dean, who shrugged. This was unfamiliar enough turf for him, but he wanted to know who the hell was looking them up and how they might be related to the dangerous, happy torturer known as Angelus.

They were surprised by the Skype cam that revealed a girl with pig tails, who looked about fifteen.

"Are you...?"

She shook her head. "No names yet. I'll go fetch her."

Sam didn't have to lean into the microphone plugged into the usb port and now sitting to the right of the keyboard, but did so out of habit. "Fetch who?"

A woman with red hair that was wearing a low-cut peasant dress appeared on the screen. "Sorry gentlemen. Had to make sure you were on the right side."

Dean folded his arms next to Sam. "Really? And what side is that? You're the one that ambushed us."

The red head shook her head slowly. "I apologize. But we have a policy of taking certain precautions when someone enter the archives."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Which demonology site is yours?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

Sam snorted. "Good answer. You got a name, miss?"

Willow nodded into her Skype cam. "Sure. Name's Willow."

Sam smiled warmly. "Pretty. I'm Sa..." Dean elbowed Sam, shaking his head. "I mean...I'm Sergeant Pepper."

There was a small scoff off-screen. "Please, if his name started with D, he'd be telling us that he's Darth Vader."

Willow turned her head and shushed someone off-screen. Sam craned his neck as though he could see who she was shushing. "You in a coffee shop?"

A head bearing an eye patch and hair as dark as ravens with a grin just as goofy as when Sam got into his own brand of mischief, popped in front of Willow's head on the screen. "She wishes. I can't even run the Mr. Coffee most days. Name's Xander Harris. Who else is that in your lonely heart club band?"

Xander was pushed back playfully by Willow. Dean nodded. So much for being mysterious and vague. "Name's Rocky Balboa."

"Turn the camera over this way, Will."

Willow looked the other direction of the camera. "You sure?"

After a moment, the camera turned to focus on Buffy Summers. "My name is Buffy Summers. I was the Slayer who activated every girl of every generation to fight evil. Now, if we're gonna trust each other and I'm gonna know why the hell...."

"Buffy?" Sam shook his head. "Now that can't be a real name. Sounds like someone from the Phantom of the Opera."

Castiel stood with his hands behind his back, flanking Sam. "Buffy is her real name."

Buffy blinked hard. "Do I know you?"

Castiel nodded. "We met once, under very different circumstances. You had just passed on into the great light and..."

Buffy's mouth gaped open and she pointed to the screen, momentarily dropping her hard shell that she had cultivated for Skype. "You...you're that guy!"

Castiel nodded slowly then turned to Dean. "She's to be trusted. These are the Winchester brothers, Sam and Dean, Ms. Summers."

Sam waved at the screen, where Buffy and Xander were flanking Willow. "Hey there! Nice to meet you. So...whats with trying to rewrite our little corner of cyberspace?"

Willow nodded. "We make it a habit to hack anyone who searches our database for certain historical demonic figures."

Buffy crossed her arms. "She means Angelus. We need to know what happened."

Dean coughed. "No offense, what was it...Buffy?, but this doesn't affect you. Its our problem."

Xander shook his head, trying to suppress a desperate chuckle. "I think we'd beg to differ. Angelus is everybody's problem."

Willow turned to Buffy when Dean was about to interject and a loud ping came over the speakers. "Buff...he wants to talk with them as well."

Buffy's lips drew tight. "Fine, but I'm not thrilled. Gentlemen, we're going on conference with someone whose an expatriate from the Watchers Council. If you want to know what we're up against, I'd recommend you'd join us. He's not technically savvy, so he'll be with us in a moment. Patch him in, Will."

Sam turned to Dean, who shrugged. They didn't have anything to lose by adding another to the conversation. Unfortunately, across town, the Maigers family that had moved after living in Fort Wayne for most of their life had no such luck. They had just gotten the kids bedded down in the living room after Team Free Will had excised the boogey man from the premises. They didn't see the tall, cold man with the gas can and the face of an angel standing right outside their front room window with their curtains drawn.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hello, am I connected?" Giles replaced his thin-framed glasses on his brow. Moving the handkerchief back to his pocket, he nodded at the men on one side of the screen.

"You're patched in Giles," Willow chirped.

"Yes, thank you Willow. Now, you gentlemen needed to know about Angelus?"

"Yes," came the chorus of flat responses from the Winchesters and their angel.

"Before we continue this conversation further, I want to know exactly why you're researching Angelus," Buffy stated bluntly.

"Look _Buffy_," Sam said her name with air quotes in place, "its not just out of academic curiosity."

"Indeed," Giles concurred, "I don't think Angelus would come up as a mere search anomaly."

Xander added as best be could, extending his hand out to the men on the screen. "Plus Buff, look at them. They've got that whole deer in headlights thing going on. They've obviously at least experienced his handiwork first hand."

Sam gestured to Xander. "Is that what happened to your eye?"

Xander's expression turned grim. "Not exactly. That's not really his style."

"What is his style then?" Sam's eyes narrowed as he tried to interpret body language as though the Scooby gang were opposing counsel.

"We'll get to...wait, did you put air quotes around my name? You honestly think I would make up a name like Buffy?"

Dean clamped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "Look, he apologizes. Lets just move on Ms. Summers."

"Fine," Buffy stated dryly, "but my name gets made fun of one more time, we drop your name as a terrorist cell to the FBI and Angelus won't be your only problem."

Sam snorted. "Lady, you obviously know nothing about the Winchesters, but we admire your tenacity. Care to get with giving of information? We have things to do..."

"Geez, will you slow down Sam? We're trying to warm you up here. Once you hear the story, you'll probably be wishing for an ear-melting spell right away. And then how are you gonna rock the earrings? Not that you do mind you, although I haven't know you that long and..."

Sam watched in commiseration as Willow gave a mighty yet playful elbow into Xander's ribs. "As Xander was trying to say in his own Xander way is that Angelus is an oddity, even among his own kind. Your search is very serious and thats why you were brought to our attention."

Dean nodded. "We appreciate your help, but we just need to know what we're facing."

"I believe we can face this and win. These brothers have faced both demons and angels and won," Castiel added with a note of pride.

Giles proceeded to wipe his glasses again. "Yes, well, a good fighting track record may not even help against Angelus. He is, at his best, a macabre artist. I suggest first that any family you have be relocated, secretly and soon."

"We're lucky there, Mr. Giles, all we have is each other."

Giles' voice lowered. "Yes, well, that might not even help. Rumors are that he is back with Drusilla, whom he turned insane and then sired."

Buffy crossed her arms. "The angel's gonna be a problem. He loves twisting anything associated with holiness or beauty. I should know, its my fault he came around the first time."

"The first time? You mean he goes on safari occasionally?"

Willow shook her head. "Not quite, Sam. You see, he wasn't always soulless and crazy. When he has a soul, he kind of goes into redemptive mode as Angel..."

Xander looked over at Buffy with sorry in his eyes. "But its not enough. Angelus always seems to have a way of seducing the soul right from under Dead boy. Angelus is a danger not just to those of us in the blood pumping community, but anyone with any sort of firm grip on sanity."

"But he's a vampire, he can be defeated by normal vampire standards, right?" Dean tightened his grip, which was still on Sam's shoulder.

"Good lord, you're not thinking of going after Angelus, are you?"

Dean stopped a moment at the look in Giles' face. It was like watching a Picasso melt into a Dali painting. Usually a stoic and wise man, Giles suddenly turned into a hard-faced father figure. Dean had to soldier on though. "He tortured me."

Buffy shook her head. "He won't take revenge in normal ways, thats not his attitude on life. And revenge is what he'll want since you escaped He's the head of his vampiric Order, one thats supposed to be older than Dracula-though he would probably dispute that. What we're sure of about Angelus is that he is a fanatic, a fan of ironic gestures."

"Yeah, and he loves to disarm people with that damn sexy face and those muscles of his are deceptively strong and I'm...I'm gonna stop talking now," Xander finished quietly.

"Buffy and Giles are right," Willow pleaded, "magick is enough to restore his soul but I don't think Angel is destined to win against the twisted force inside of him. I mean, he's literally been to hell and back and Angelus still finds a way out."

Dean bore down on his fate. "Yeah, well, so have I but we've got too much of a different priority to be side-tracked by this clown."

"Trust me," Giles' voice began to quiver, "Angelus is not to be taken lightly. You may not be languid men, but he will find a way to hurt you if he's become interested in you. He'll send you signs, he'll kill those you love or anyone you know. He'll become your top priority."

"Geez," Sam exhaled, "and I thought being used as a meat puppet for Lucifer was enough of a problem."

"You mean the First is trying to get at you as well?" Willow asked.

"Man, you must have pissed off some people," Xander joked.

Sam shook his head. "More than we can tell you about. Seems a lot of people don't care much for our style."

"We know the feeling," Buffy nodded, "but there are some good people in the grey zone if you network with us. The PTB can only do so much."

"Buffy, you mean the Powers that Screw with you, right?"

"Xander," Giles began to lightly admonish, "you might want to rethink that question with an angel present on the Skype."

"Sorry," Xander apologized sheepishly.

"Its okay," Castiel nodded, "I understand some policies and procedures from above as of recent have not been on par with expectations and I don't blame your hesitancy at all. I myself sometimes wonder about the men I've served under."

Buffy nodded. "Good. You'll need that. Just remember, you have to trust each other because Angelus is most dangerous when he breaks you apart. Team Buffy out."

With the fast click of a couple of keys, Sam watching his screen go blank and reboot. He furrowed his brow as Dean and Castiel watched him try and track Team Buffy without success. "Its like she's..."

Dean nodded as Sam's head shook slowly. "If she wants to be found, she'll come around again. In the meantime, we have to figure out where Angelus is and how much of a danger he is. From what this girl and her friends said, I think we have real reason to worry about this guy."

"Especially if he's become psychotic about you, Dean."

Dean smiled weakly at Castiel. "C'mon, Cas, its not like Angelus is the first mad as a march hare thing to track us. We'll be okay."

Castiel traded a deep gaze with Dean. "I'll believe that when he's no more than a pile of ashes to consecrate."

"Guys..." Sam's voice trailed as he pointed to the local news story on the screen. By the time they arrived at the shell of the familiar house, there were only four people under white sheets, two deputies muttering at each other while drinking scalding coffee and a hidden photo in the back of the daughter's closet. It was a photo of Dean taken through the window with two words on the back of the Polaroid in scrawling handwriting.

"Hi again."


	6. Chapter 6

"What are you doing?"

Sam peered at Dean over the Styrofoam cup filled with noodles. Sam looked around as though Dean were asking someone else. He replied after a moment, as though his brother couldn't tell that there were noodles in broth on the end of his fork. "Eating a Cup of Noodles."

Dean nodded sharply. "Yeah, I got that. Why?"

"As unnatural and unhealthy as those noodles are claimed to be, they do provide sustenance Dean," Castiel offered from one of the beds, where he was sitting with his hands folded naturally across his lap.

"What the angel said," Sam agreed as he stuffed some noodles into his mouth and pointed at Castiel with his fork for good measure.

"Nuh-uh," Dean replied as he shook his head, "I've only seen you eat Ramen twice before and those were not good circumstances. You nervous, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed quickly. "Are you saying I shouldn't be?"

Dean jumped up from the seat as though it were on fire. "Hell, I don't know-sorry Cas- but I know it ain't a good sign when you're doing your Ramen ritual."

"Perhaps you are being paranoid?" Castiel offered with a blink. "After all, as dangerous as Angelus is, he has several chinks in his apparently impenetrable armor, a variety of which we can expose and utilize."

"Yeah, cause it totally sounds like Buffy didn't try that," Dean countered as he leaned against the somewhat wobbly chest of drawers, made out of dark cherry laminate.

"Perhaps. But Ms. Summers lacks a few things that we have. Her agendas, as I understand them, are only attuned to Angelus in a certain way."

Dean began to stroke his chin and train his gaze on Castiel. "Yeah, speaking of which, does that mean we should be worried about that blond girl and her crew? They seem pretty fanatical in their terror."

"You worried about clouded judgment?" Sam fired off from his brain.

"Maybe. I mean, yeah I was," and Dean took a long pause before he could form the word, "_tortured_, but I mean this guy is an amateur compared to..."

Dean petered off from there and Castiel nodded. "I must state though that Ms. Summer's paranoia is more than understandable. The research on both Angel and Angelus speak for themselves. The antithesis of personalities that inhabit this vampire leads to his instability."

"Basically, the guy is crazier than a monkey in a box of animal crackers, Dean, and Buffy didn't seem to think we were safe at all, " Sam voiced, trying to mask a growing concern gnawing in the back of his mind.

Dean nodded. "We've been hit by twisted fucks before, but something about this guy is different. His modus operandi isn't rational or sane and that makes him difficult."

Sam went back to his Ramen, getting down to the chicken broth at the bottom. "He's worse than that guy on One Life to Live."

Dean grumbled in his throat. "Sammy, please don't compare one of our villains to a bad guy on a soap."

Sam shrugged. "Just stating the obvious, bro. Look at the facts, I think he fits that profile."

"I'm not sure cleanliness is an issue that Angelus possesses," Castiel replied.

"Never mind, Cas," Dean purred low in his throat, still mystified that the angel simply refuses to immerse himself in pop culture references, even though he technically is half-fallen and pretty much powerless in his meat suit.

"Dean, man," Sam starts with a sigh, "I am worried though that we're bringing ourselves up on a false front here in this hotel room. I mean, the bastard knows we're in town and it technically is private so he most likely won't be able to gain entry, but eventually we're gonna need a new plan, even if its not a head-on assault."

Dean bit down on his lip, maneuvering to fix himself a drink. As the ice cubes clink in the glass, he doesn't drink neat when he's that nervous, Dean pauses. "You think he'd try to grab one of us when we went out for ice."

"Its entirely conceivable," Castiel murmured in agreement to Sam.

"No, whats conceivable is that you guys are getting' whipped by paranoia. Look, we've defended ourselves against, **are** defending ourselves against crazier sobs than this. Don't let the warning label get you, we've got whatever it takes against this guy. We just gotta think of it, is all," Dean smirks confidently as Sam and Castiel blink back, entirely unconvinced and unmotivated.

"And you're too over-confident, Dean. I mean, the guy...come on, man! He followed you out here, tracked you down. You can't say..." Sam trailed off when he realized he was standing, pointing at Dean in frustration.

Dean quirked his eyebrow at his brother. "You got something to say, Sammy? I mean, as far as we know, the most threating thing he's got in his arsenal is psychology and I know for a fact you passed Psych 101. Its a prerequisite to Stanford Law, so you can't tell me that you can't defuse the guy."

Sam crossed his arms in response, his voice raising slightly higher with each sentence. "Except for the part where he enjoys his insanity, maybe you're correct, but he doesn't play by the same rules as the rest of us. His childe is complete proof of that! The company of those who fear or admire him attest to it. Red flagged search results, for Christ sake Dean! Sorry Cas."

"Ms. Summers and her friends were right about one thing," Castiel interjected-ignoring both apologies pertaining to their inappropriate use of angelic words, "Angelus is not even here and you two are already at each others throats. Your arguments both contain merits, but I agree more with Sam that action is a necessary course before someone who plays by a set of rules we cannot understand, his own perverted Free Will if you will pardon the take on our expression, attacks in a way that will send us spiraling out of control and possibly put the earth in conceivable more danger than before."

Sam nodded. "See? Castiel agrees with me."

Dean set down his glass with a sharp thud. "Fine. If we're gonna argue this out, then I'm gonna go get some more ice. I'm gonna need it."

Sam crossed the path as Dean headed to the door with the bucket. "Oh no, you're not. Don't think I don't know what you're doin'."

"And whats that, Sammy?"

Castiel peered up at half of Sam's face and Dean's back. "He's thinking that you, Dean, in your infinite wisdom, have decided to try and snake out Angelus yourself to try and keep both Sam and I out of danger without giving us the opportunity to stop you, an endeavor which you know will ultimately fail because of how much we care for you. And the fact that the guy is a grade A nut job and will probably try and murder us anyways."

"What the angel said," Sam replied as he stuck his chin out at Dean and grabbed the small bucket. "I'll go get the ice."

Sam turned to grab on the door knob, clenching it tightly until his knuckles turned white. Dean whispered low, hands on his hips. "You thinking its not safe, right Sammy? Maybe you shouldn't go alone?"

Sam opened the door with a start, greeted by nothing. Rolling his eyes as he looked over his shoulder at Dean, Sam spoke in confident tones he didn't necessarily feel. "I don't think we're safe in this room, truth be told."

It was a long walk down to the ice machine. Sam was prepared with a few hidden weapons, but nothing major enough. Just major enough to sound the alarm. The ice machine was the ultimate issue when he arrived, however, because it whirred and coughed but refused to sputter out any ice.

Cursing low, Sam hit the side of the machine for good measure and turned to head quickly back to the safety of the room.

"Hello there, younger brother," came her voice before Sam found himself blindfolded and struggling in arms far stronger than his. There wasn't much to catch by the time he had been loaded in the van. He knew it must be Angelus, although the female's name was a mystery to him.

"He's been gone long enough," Dean stated sharply, pounding the table. "Shouldn't have let him go out there. Didn't need ice that bad."

Castiel swung his legs over the bed so that he could sit up. "Then why let him go?"

Dean sighed, loading pure silver bullets into his revolver. "Because, ultimately, he's right. We can't let this guy get to us, make us too scared. Cause thats his M.O. And if that's all he wants to do, he'll win over us through fear."

"But you also admit that he poses a real threat, correct?"

Dean nodded. "Definitely, but Sammy's a big boy. He's shown that he's capable and I'm hoping that Angelus will just lose interest if we don't tip into his hand."

"Sam's been gone a long time," Castiel spoke, lower than Dean had before.

"That's why we're gonna go see what's keeping him," Dean replied as though he had made up his mind long before Sam had left the room. "Should've gone with him in the first place."

Dean popped his head out of the door. "Hey Sammy, how long does it take to get ice?"

No reply. The hallway was empty.

"Daddy, the stars, they're singing to me. Miss Doolittle is smiling!"

Angelus purred as he shifted gears and lanes, making sure Sam was jolted to either wall of the back of the van. "Yeah, Dru? And what are the stars telling you now?"

Drusilla responded to the chuckle in Angelus' delighted and sadistic throat. "It says that he could be beautiful and he's choosing not to be. I could help him see how lovely the world is."

"Well, I didn't want to spoil the surprise, Dru, but I was gonna give him to you as a gift later on, but maybe I'll let you make him beautiful, if you think that'll help."

"Oh yes!" Drusilla swooned with glee, placing a slender hand on Angelus' lap (kidnapping always gave him a hard on), "I think I can help the young brother to help us...or maybe change them completely."

Angelus looked through the mirror, nearly twisted and falling from the ceiling. "Well, he's not half bad looking. Maybe he can be persuaded to do the right thing. I've always had a talent for making people comply with what I want...whats the matter, Dru?"

Drusilla pouted. "He makes me hungry, Daddy. But I don't want to eat him, I need him for play. Could we stop for a bite to eat?"

Angelus grabbed Drusilla's hand, still relaxed across his thigh, and started pumping his own hard cock with it, until he had trouble steering. "Sure, baby. Lets just find a restaurant and then we can order you something off the menu before you play."

Meanwhile, Dean and Castiel had advanced out the door and most of the way down the silent hall. The ice machine rumbled before them and Dean kicked the ice bucket across the hallway, until it fell between railing slats to the first story below.

"Can't believe this!"

"We'll find him, Dean. Angelus wouldn't purely kill him. His spite is of a much worse strain."

Dean bit down on his lower lip. "I know. But I..."

Dean came up to the ice machine, hitting it with the butt of his gun. It rumbled and whirred, but nothing happened. However, Dean noticed a sloshing sound behind the rumble.

"Something is amiss here, Dean."

Dean froze for a moment. "I know. More than one thing's not right."

There was a macabre defiance in Dean's brain, wanting to know if Sam had been stuffed in the ice machine. It would break his heart, but man he wanted a reason to kill the imbalanced vampire. Taking a breath, he hit the ice button again with the butt of his gun. The machine whirred but began to shake instead of just stopping.

Dean and Castiel began to back up when a river of dark red began to pour from the machine, cascading at their feet.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean growled.

Castiel kneeled down, dipping a finger into the red substance. "Dean, its not blood. This substance is communion wine."


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh shit." Sam gasped as the monster formed behind him. He turned to watch as the Astroturf twisted and towered into a thick brute of a troll. His blood ran cold, even though it was a hot night in rural Missouri and his skin was thick with sweat.

The monster moved forward on cobbled feet, slowly, in a strange yet powerful waddle. His mouth moved, but made no sounds. Sam turned to run, but the monster's thick fingers caught one foot nearly instantly. Sam felt himself lifted, being swung up into the air. He couldn't tell if the monster was feeling peckish or simply wanted to learn to write his name using Sam as a pencil. Either scenario was not ideal. Then he heard the sound of his brother's GTO coming out of the distant twilight.

He saw the lights soon after and the rest of the rust-colored bucket came behind. Dean was singing...something...but Sam couldn't quite make it out. Avoiding getting slammed while keeping himself still in the air was a bigger issue at the moment.

"I'm comin' Sammy!" Dean bellowed as he brought the car to a squealing halt and jumped out with dad's sawed-off shotgun by his side. He ran forward, using one arm for aiming and leverage. Falling into a kneeling position, Dean squinted and fired off two shots. Sam scrunched in on himself so that he would be a smaller target. But it didn't matter. Dean barely had time to hit the dirt as the bullets ricocheted off of the thick hide of the Astroturf beast.

"Dean, get me down!"

"I'm working on it, huh? Aren't you supposed to be the genius and me the lowly demon hunting prodigy?"

Sam barely avoided the jaws of the beast and was currently trying to kick the monster's eyes out, or the space where the eyes should have been. "Are you still pissed about that? I said I was sorry."

"You didn't say it like you meant it."

Sam would have thrown his hands up in the air if they hadn't already been there. "Okay, okay. I'll apologize after you get me down and destroy this thing."

"That's better. Thoughts?"

Sam felt the dirt as it brushed by his hair and he knew it would probably have taken a chunk out of the middle. Dean was moving back towards the car, looking for a better weapon. Sam was going to have to figure out something before this thing actually got a piece of him, seeing as how he was already getting woozy from the blood rushing to his head.

"Dean, get the vodka! Make a molotov!"

"Are you insane?!" Dean called from the car. "This is dad's last secret bottle. No way am I getting in trouble..."

"Dean!"

Dean sighed and hurried around to the glove box, pulling out the bottle of vodka that he and Sam had worked so hard to steal. Taking a final swig, Dean grunted and proceeded to stuff the top with bits of newspaper scattered throughout his GTO. By the time he was ready to roll the makeshift bomb, Sam was unconscious and the brute of a lawn troll was already throwing Sam's body into his own thick rib cage.

"Its just like at the alley last week with Kathy," Dean muttered as he took his cheap-ass lighter and lit it against his jeans. Tossing the lit bottle, it rolled and exploded right on cue. The surprised monster threw Sam a few feet off of the blast site and turned in surprised rage to the people that had created it. He started to waddle his way towards them, which caused more than one scream and more than one shot to be fired.

"Idiots," Dean muttered as he slapped his brother's cheek to wake him up, "I already tried that. Hey Sammy, get up. Prom's over and our hour's paid up."

"Wha...." Sam muttered as he woke up to Dean's outstretched arm ready to give him a lift. "Don't say it," Sam pleaded with a groan.

"Say what? Say that you stole and used Dad's last good bottle of vodka to destroy a monster created by the high school kids of the gypsy clan...."

"Hey! You used that vodka!"

Dean slipped his body beneath his brother's arm. He could feel the labored breathing and he ventured a guess that there was probably already one broken rib. "To save your life. Tell you what, I'll take credit for the kill but I wanna be in the room when you tell dad why you got in this mess."

Sam snorted. "Thanks. You gonna read my eulogy too?"

Dean shook his head as they halted at the GTO. "Well, lets get your broken ass in Miranda first and then we'll talk about your eulogy."

Sam gingerly started to lower himself into the passenger seat, on top of a smattering of grocery ads. "Dude, you have to stop naming your cars."

It was always during times like these (when he was kidnapped) that Sam remembers the old days, like the memory of the Astroturf demon. Dean's ongoing tribute of making his brother bait was due to the fact that his gawky brother didn't know when to tell the dumb jock kids of the gypsy cursers in Clanton, Missouri that he would think about joining the football team (in the South) instead of just giving an outright no to begin with, no matter how he felt about it.

Sam was pretty good at playing the Daphne to his brother's Fred at this point. He didn't even have to practice his defensive pouty face to make his captors think he identified with him. Neither did Sam have to be cavalier, he just expected that Dean would come to his rescue. He could care less if the captors knew.

The first thing that registered with Sam, after the feeling that he had eaten a blood and Astroturf sandwich on the floor of a rusted out van, that had left a lovely streak of dirt on the side of his cheek, was the throbbing headache. It was a nice touch to have those, it gave him an area of pain to concentrate on, like a sun to revolve his pain around. Good, long ones could even keep his mind sharp.

The surroundings were nothing to write home about. The lights were still off and there was no light from any windows that he could tell. The shape of a slight stairway or possibly just a lift in the floor broke the tension of the black. He tried moving his legs, knowing they were tied with thick, well-knotted rope already, and noting that there was a definite springy squeak as he moved.

"Okay, on a bed with a bad mattress," Sam thought and added with an after smell, "a moldy, old mattress."

Lights came on quickly and his body tensed, but he let his arms relax. He wouldn't be able to swing with the way they were tied anyways. He could take quite a few punches, but not being able to hit back right away would be a disadvantage that Sam didn't care for. She came around the corner and you could have knocked Sam out with a feather.

"Ruby?!"

She looked around quickly, bringing a knife out of her back pocket to start shredding through the ropes with. "Sam. Glad to see you're awake, I'll have you free in a minute."

"How...why...you're here."

Ruby smirked. "Good to see you know who I am. At least I don't have to ask you who the president is or anything."

"Ruby....."

Ruby moved from the left wrist to the right wrist. "Look, not much time. I've been trailing you and I don't know where your pair of captors went, but they won't be gone long. They said something about Castiel."

"You think I can trust you?"

Ruby grimaced as she came in contact with a particularly difficult knot. "Look, Dean's not the only one who can be taken out of hell for less than charitable reasons. They sent me to help."

Dean's arms snapped up slightly, free of the weights of the rope. He used his free arms to work on the loop underneath his right calf. "Look, not that I'm not grateful and everything, but you realize that I can't trust you."

Ruby nodded. "Didn't say you had to Sam, just said that I was here to help. Can you wiggle the other leg out?"

Sam groaned under his breath, panting as he watched his skin being pulled into an obscene shade of red. "Damn it, no."

It seemed to take Ruby forever to slash through the last knot, but she eventually did and Sam found that he could sit up without too much pain. His headache weighed out the slack pain in his muscles. Ruby headed back up the division in the floor and checked to make sure the coast was clear.

"Come on, lets get back to Dean."

Sam shook his head, furrowing his brow. "Why would you want to see Dean?"

"C'mon, I'm sure he's gotten over what I did."

"You were the final seal, Ruby! And I don't know how the hell you intend to make up for that, but I got a feeling that Dean wouldn't let you. No, we gotta go elsewhere."

Ruby moved back towards Sam, a look of anger flashing across her face. "Look, I rescued you and I'm taking you back to Dean, okay? Then I'll scamper off on my merry way. You just gotta tell me where he is."

"I won't do that. I won't put you in danger. Not with this psychopath after him."

A corner of Ruby's mouth turned up in a sweet smirk as she closed the space between Sam and herself. "I had forgotten how much you loved him, how much you wanted to protect him."

Sam felt one of his knees shaking. She was so close, he could reach out and ..... he heard his voice, but there was a disconnect with something in his mind screaming at him. "He's my brother."

Ruby reached up and pulled Sam's lips into a kiss that he wasn't expecting. But it didn't taste like Ruby at all. Something was wrong, it was aggressive and yet distracted. Even if she had changed, and people pulled from hell often do change, Sam doubted that she should have changed that much.

"Ruby, we...."

The laugh on the other end of the kiss wasn't Ruby. In fact, it wasn't anyone he had ever met before. Her face was pale and her dark hair flowed out of a spiky bun. She was wearing different clothes as well, a fake red fur among them. Sam felt his body shaking, repelled away from her to a point where he fell back to a sitting position on the mattress.

"Sorry, Sam. Guess I'm not the girl you were looking for."

"C'mon Dru," Angelus added with a twisted hint of glee as he stepped out from where Ruby/Drusilla had come from, "it was just getting good and hot. You should have fucked him, then he might have killed himself before we would've had to. Less messy that way."

"Mmmm..." Drusilla purred, "Ms. Doolittle says he was a naughty thing, but he tries so hard to be good."

Angelus let loose with a fanged smile. "Well, maybe we can fix that."

"Okay," Sam snarled as he sat up on the bed, "what the hell are you?"

Angelus pointed to himself. "Excuse me, I'm the captor here. I will ask the questions. Like, I don't know, where the hell is your brother hiding himself?!"

"You seem to know just as much about our movements as we do. Why don't you tell me how she turned into someone I knew and I'll tell you where Dean is." Sam snarled, barely hiding his contempt under his breath.

Angelus' eyes lit up as he grabbed a chair from underneath the vanity, the mirror already gone from above the desk. As he sat in a relaxed position of confident superiority, he let one hand slide down to his crotch. Even though Sam didn't look, it was clear that Angelus was going to torture him and most likely get off on it. Drusilla's fingers were long and black and slid along Angelus' shoulders until she stood by his side, one arm draped across his back.

"A trade. Hmmm...seems kind of old-fashioned. But, then, I am an old-fashioned kind of guy. Guess that's what happens when you're made into a dark creature back in the Old World. In my day, we didn't even have chainsaws. It was a real shame."

"I bet. Now, you wanna know where my brother is or are you gonna talk all night?"

Angelus stood slowly. "So, you're a get down to business kind of guy, huh? I can appreciate that. I mean, you're young. You still have places to go, things to do...incidentally, what places would those be that you would go to? Maybe Bobby's auto shop with that demon shack in the middle?"

"I hated that place," Drusilla pouted, "all dirty and pure. Miss Doolittle shuddered the entire time we were there."

"If you hurt Bobby..."

"Careful how you finish that sentence, Junior," Angelus chuckled darkly, "threatening is no way to talk to your elders. But, just so you know," Angelus continued as he towered over Sam, leaning into him so that Sam had to sprawl out on the bed beneath him, "I didn't do anything to him. Yet."

Sam tried for a swift kick to the groin but Angelus caught his leg, leaving his held up in the air while he admired the split in the younger Winchester son's pants. "You know, the old me with the soul would have never caught your leg because he didn't like human blood. Well, he liked it, but he was a wuss. Luckily, he's not here. And you try that again and I'll have you begging me to fuck you after I get through with you."

"What? You gonna use your girlfriend's magic act on me again?"

Drusilla peeked over Angelus' shoulder. "Does he think we're mates, Daddy?" She stroked a long, sharp fingernail over Sam's extended leg, causing Sam to feel a tiny split in his skin where her nails had gone through cloth and skin. It was just enough to be annoying and possibly to get infected, but not enough to cause extreme pain. Sam's brain went into over drive.

Angelus looked from Drusilla to the terrified Sam. "I forget how uncomplicated you mortals take yer life to be. Now, how about just cooperating and telling us where your brother is and I might even fuck you before I kill you, but there's no guarantees. You're actually not as cute as him."

"Fine....but I wanna know how she turned into someone I knew? What is it? A magic trick, hypnotic gaze?"

Angelus shrugged as he took hold of Sam's ankle and broke it in four places with a swift thrust of his palm. Sam felt the shiver of pain before it registered, his mangled foot flopping over the side of Angelus' hand like a broken balloon of blood and skin. "Sure. Hypnotic gaze, whatever. Don't know how Dru does it, only that she does that voodoo she do so well. Maybe you should tell me where your brother is before I take a shining to the other leg."

Sam spoke through gritted teeth while screams welled up in his belly. "He's at 1800 Fuck You Lane, Shit Faced Crazy Motel, Nebraska."

Angelus let go of Sam's leg and then moved his neck from one side to the other, hearing it pop and sighing with fondness. "I had forgotten how devoted brothers are to each other. Must be nice. I was devoted to family like that once. But I ate'em and found that they weren't surprisingly tasty, either."

With that, Angelus proceeded to start a pattern of black and blue bruises on Sam's skin, beginning somewhere in his stomach. He only knew it because of the temporary displacement of vile in his throat as Angelus punched and his mind eventually blacked out from the inflicted pain.


	8. Chapter 8

She hadn't even noticed Angelus come in. Her back had been to the window, her gorgeous neck and upper back exposed through her turquoise shirt with the tie in back. He hadn't been really hungry but his body had growled for her flesh. And he could not deny his body.

She wanted it too, he could tell. Her bottle blond hair and her long, gaudy fingernails trying to daintily play the piano in her nearly empty house attested to it. Angelus didn't care whether she wanted it right then or not though, she would end up panting his name. They always did.

Like most women, she had locked her front door but had forgotten her back, as though a robber were going to give up after one door was locked or after he had heard her playing in her house, all alone. Her nice, quiet, big, clean house where she lived all alone.

You could add sparse to that list. Angelus looked around as he entered the kitchen. Stainless steel and fake wood cabinets; a tall glass of water sitting on the clean island with just a hint of lemon scent shivered a bit as he walked past, his claws lightly moving over the lower end of expensive marble.

There wasn't much to the house save for herself and the piano. She did have a brilliant leather chair resting in a corner with a throw hung over it, as though the chair arm itself was cold. Not a television nor a hint of a cell phone or computer. She was unplugged, enlightened. Her magazine rack had two years worth of Economist and Mother Jones magazines filtered into it in an almost haphazard fashion.

The scent of lemon blended into the scent of orchid, more of a laundry soap mask than a perfume. He was surprised how clean she was, how deep her expression and how long the lines of her face were. From the back she had looked so young and now he felt less like he had found his new Lolita and more as though he had found a contemporary to break into pieces.

She was still playing as Angelus threw himself into the space behind her. She continued to play a complicated chord as goosebumps poked from the bare spot on her back. Her fingers trembled, almost halting and definitely slowing, as she felt claws grasp for her neck.

"Don't stop," he whispered as he bit down.

She had to stop, eventually. Fingers need blood and a beating heart to keep moving. She had neither of those after just a few minutes.

"Why'd you stop?" Angelus teased into her ears as he brought her head back, cradling it on his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with fear and anguish, but were silently brilliant, her soul vacated by virtue of death. But that didn't stop Angelus from splitting her dress at one seam so it would swing open like a door to her chest.

Angelus regretted killing her at that moment. Her breasts which still stood firm and natural didn't heave or quiver as he would have preferred. But he had a solution for that. Her body made a horrid sound against the piano keys as it landed with a thud. Angelus balanced her so that she wouldn't slide off of the instrument.

Once she was securely in place, he proceeded to rip away each garment as though she was alive. He carefully slit away at the fabrics without ruining the integrity of the outfit. He unwrapped her like a present, slowly and maliciously. All of the gore of a shocked death fell away with her bra and panties, leaving only a naked, young corpse for Angelus to play with.

He made her breasts pump against his body. He loved the feeling of silk and leather against his own skin, so he didn't bother to disrobe before unzipping and ramming himself into her cooling vagina. He imagined her squirms, the screams of pain with an undercurrent of pleasure. Oh yes, he could do things she would hate herself for. But she would beg for more.

As Angelus felt himself come close to rupture, he moved slowly, almost stock still inside. His own pre-cum slickened her passage, making his knees go weak as he virtually fucked himself with another person's hole. He gave one last might thrust before his cum shot deep inside her deadened womb.

There was a clap from another room. Lucifer entered slowly, almost as if the entire place were sacred. Angelus snorted as he picked up her dress to wipe his member off, blood and semen dangling from the erect wood.

"Bravo, Angelus."

Angelus snorted. "I don't play for an audience. What do you want?"

"You know who I am?"

Angelus crooked a brow. "Please, you're the guy my goody two-shoes other half nearly destroyed when the Powers pulled him out of hell."

Lucifer slowly circled the piano, finger tracing absent dust. One hand was casually propped in a pocket as he strolled. He came to her body, shredded with Angelus' lust and left to rot atop her own clothing. "I admire your style, Angelus."

Angelus blinked. "You came all the way to tell me that?"

"Not exactly," Lucifer winked with a smile and casually crossed his arms. "I've come with a proposition for you."

"I gave up my soul long ago. You think I've got anything you need?"

Lucifer shrugged. "I was always a man with an eye for a bargain. Its actually not you I'm concerned with in this case. Its someone you've become... enamored with."

"The two brothers and the angel?" Angelus asked without a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah. You see, these guys are pretty instrumental in saving the world and you have quite a history of wanting to..."

Angelus put out his hand to stop Lucifer. "Wait a minute. You're asking for a flunky, an enforcer. I ain't biting, Big Red."

"I'll sweeten the pot."

"There's nothing you can say."

Lucifer sighed, taking a moment for dramatic effect and picking with his vessel's fingernails. "Now, now Angelus. You've got to be a team player. You've as much reason to want this Dean guy dead as I do."

"Dead? Who says I want him dead?"

"My mistake then," Lucifer lied as he rested across the piano, "I thought you wanted the dark twin of the Amara gem."

"Its a myth."

"A myth that he's holding back from you," Lucifer added his hands for emphasis. "And, I'll even let you mess with the one you've already captured. We don't even have to have him as part of the deal."

"How generous..."

Lucifer furrowed his brow. "Angelus, I know that you hate order and good as much as I could, if I had ever taken human form. I'm here today as an equal to you, simply asking for your assistance. I'm offering more than you know."

Angelus stroked one key, letting a foul note hit the air. "Fine. I'll do it. But lets not fool ourselves and make this a regular thing."

Lucifer beamed before disappearing in a wisp of black smoke. "You're doing the right thing, Angelus. Its for the greater good."

Angelus merely shrugged at the exit. He let silence engulf the space before he picked the woman up from her place, bent over on the floor. Looking into her eyes, he saw only his only reflection in the dead brown orbs. He smiled to himself, laying the woman across the piano bench. He undressed slowly, his entire body slackening of its worry over Dean Winchester.

He grabbed for his spent member and he began to stroke slowly, hissing inbetween breaths as images flashed in his eyes, always in the reflection of the dead girl. Once he was hard, he picked up the woman from the piano bench and cemented their bodies together until he could feel the stickiness inside her vagina that he had left.

With her stationed in his lap, Angelus reached out with her fingers over his own and proceeded to try and copy what she had played. But he could only hit sour notes. He stopped, letting her hands fall to her side and then her body peel away from his own, her face hitting with a thud.

He placed his elbows on top keys after shutting the piano lid and he thought about Dean Winchester. He was important enough that Lucifer had tried to put Angelus on his payroll. Angelus snorted at the idea. He was master of a court! Nobody would give him orders like hired help in a bad detective movie. What he needed to do was to step up his torture until Dean came, begging for the pain to end. He would give information, hoping it would be enough to spare them all. And then he would die. Or maybe he'd be turned and left to fend for himself in the sun.

Angelus hadn't decided which was a better punishment.


	9. Chapter 9

"Now come my precious, you must drink. You'll waste away to nothing," Drusilla stated, glee twisted with concern in her voice. In her hands was a cup filled with blood. It was spicy, a far sight worse than pig's blood for a man with bad withdrawals.

And Sam Winchester was not what one might call a fool. Okay, he could think of a couple of people that might call him a fool. And he wouldn't argue, especially considering his current state. "I'm good, thanks."

Drusilla cocked her head as though he were speaking a foreign language. "But you'll shrivel up and die if you don't. And it would be a pity to waste such a pretty boy as you."

Sam's face twitched, turning away from her cold, sharp nails as she ran them along his forehead, admiring his veins all the way to his covered waist. "Your concern is touching."

Drusilla flew into a rage. "You are so difficult, aren't you! Miss Doolittle can see it all around you, the darkness-the lovely darkness. Daddy says that you could be useful. That I could make you useful."

"Lady, you and your friend are both insane. Now let me go!"

She purred with anger at Sam's insinuation. "You will not speak ill of daddy! Bad precious."

The wounds and scrapes still hadn't healed around his manacles and the fresh ones from the knife that was later mailed to Dean, and probably wouldn't arrive before he rescued Sam, were still tender. Sam would not forget the feeling of being a human shish kebab any time soon. Nor would he forget what he felt soon enough.

"It's almost ashame that you wouldn't accept the treat I offered you precious, but you didn't believe me when I said that you would regret it."

It was almost unbearable, the unhinging sting of the hydrogen peroxide in his flesh wounds. His skin seemed to burn raw as the bubbling white pus of liquid greeted the stinging sheen of sweat covered his half-naked torso. He turned from it, closing his eyes and gasping for breath. It was enough to make him want to pray...though to who, he wasn't exactly sure since the big guy in the sky wasn't exactly the person he would term "friend".

Sam was alone when he opened his eyes, the room still filled with shadows and garish motel room light. At least, he was pretty sure it was an abandoned motel. He had a boarded up window to guess about, but nothing else incredibly substantial in the room except for a bed where Drusilla slept like an unhinged twelve year old with the award for the creepiest doll collection ever.

He didn't speak for the longest time, but he felt his muscles tense and slack as he tried to twist and pull out of his manacles. His shoulders had no give or pop left, little bits of time wearing away at their strength and thread. It was all up to Dean and Castiel, Sam was out of strength and smart juice.

Then she ran in, ridiculously gorgeous and once again on the verge of saving him.

"Seriously, you're going to try this again?"

She darted about the room until she found the key. "Sam, I'm here to rescue you."

"But...you're...what kind of idiot do you take me for?"

Ruby stood up, arching her back in an athletic pose, linking her eyes with his and taking the spell deeper than she normally went. "You recognize me, don't you?"

Sam squirmed away as she bent down with an ancient key to release him. "No."

"This is not the time, Sam. We've gotta get you somewhere to heal. Where's Dean and his weapon?"

Sam had nowhere left to scoot to. He had to accept her help. "You think I'm gonna tell you where the Colt is? Hell, he thinks I threw away your knife. I mean...no, you're not Ruby!"

Ruby's eyes grew wide as she crouched down to untangle flesh and iron. There was one more hit with with spell from her eyes, stronger yet. "My knife? You still have that old thing?"

"Of course I do. But its safe until I need it against a demon."

"Like this vampire that's been tailing you around the country?"

Sam let her take the bulk of his shoulder since he knew she could handle it. He groaned as he tried to stand and his knees tried to rebel. "Something like that. But less talking now, more escaping."

Ruby nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

Sam's senses were trying to override his brain. So much of this made sense and yet he was so glad to see her, so glad for a chance to get back to Dean. If only his knees had cooperated...

She had something in her bag. It was cold and looked like Gatorade. But he knew as he grabbed for it that it definitely wasn't Gatorade.

"Ruby?"

"You need your strength, Sam."

Sam shook it away, tossing the bottle and icy blood in it to spray across the room. "No...I can't. I have to be stronger."

Ruby turned. "Winchester, you always were an idiot. Luckily, I brought a spare. Don't think of it as falling off the wagon. You need your strength against this guy."

Sam resisted grabbing for the bottle. "Not if you're here to help."

Ruby shook her head. "This is a one time deal. Sam, you've gotta let me know if you've got anything else to fight this guy with or maybe what the honey pot you stirred up that he's looking for."

"Dean's going after a night gem, Amara's sister, but that won't help him. Its only for..."

There was a pound at the door as Sam let his guard down. The second bottle seemed more like Gatorade than the first. Ruby wasn't stupid enough to play that trick twice, was she?

"He's coming! Sam, you've got to drink."

Sam didn't have any other answer. It tasted awful, whatever the hell it was, cold demon blood, Gatorade, or something in between. All he knew was that it would be worth the lecture from Dean when Dean was...done rescuing him?

"Sam!"

Sam struggled to his feet, feeling ten times stronger than before but forgetting the icy cold blood that was warming up and dripping down his chin like a macabre goatee.

"Dean, they sent..."

All went black from there for both brothers. Dean dropped atop Sam's body from the force of the two by four against the back of his head after Sam fell into a coma from the spiked demon's blood. Angelus had been lying in wait.

"So much for the family reunion," he quipped as Drusilla clapped with glee.

Angelus fell into a celebratory mood soon enough. He had a rusty chainsaw, an old dentist chair and tool kit, and a variety of razors and burning chemicals to choose from. If Dean Winchester would just hurry up and have the good decency to wake up, then he might have the chance to enjoy them.

Dean awoke with a groan. He was pretty sure he had been aware that he had walked into a trap, but he figured this was really the only way to get Angelus off his tail...fall into the trap and then think of something ingenious. It seemed to be one of his better talents.

"Good, you're awake."

"God damn, you're cheerful for a coward."

That earned Dean a resounding slap across the face that vibrated down to the bottom of his toes. "Couldn't let me have just one moment, Winchester? That eager to get down to business? Thats fine. I'm in such a good mood, I might just let you pick your poison first before I give you the good news."

The rope was thick and frayed, buried into his skin in a variety of unholy angles that left him bare and spread eagle on the bed that smelled distinctly of urine and of a bleach disinfectant that was causing him to break out into hives in uncomfortable places.

"Where's Sam?"

Angelus' eyes fell from joyful to spiteful in a nanosecond. "You just won't let me have my moment, will you? Very well then. I'm going to sell your brother to Lucifer, ass that he is. But only after Drusilla turns him and I've ridden both your corpses bareback. I'm gonna make him scream your name and then mine. Unless you think he's worth keeping around as a pity fuck? What would you say?"

Dean struggled and then calmed. "You pompous bastard, you think you've got it all fucking wrapped up, don't you? Think you're just gonna waltz away with a gem that I've already destroyed? Well, fuck you and your mythic gem. It never existed in the first place. Second, you've still got the angel to deal with. Remember him, popped some lights and poofed out with me leaving your dick in your hands, you twisted son of a bitch?"

Angelus shook his head. "Let him come, if he thinks it'll do any good." Angelus leaned over Dean's body, leather sliding over rebellious cock until Dean was hard. "I'll have you begging to be fucked by then just so the pain'll stop."

"In your dreams. We're gonna dust you."

Angelus gave a half grin as he lifted off of the bed and glided over to his tools of torture. "You know Dean," he stated calmly as his fingers tip-toed among the various bottles and shiny, sharp object, "you make this such a rewarding experience for me. Its a joyful difficulty deciding whether or not I want to cut your tongue out or just dissolve it. Its the little decisions, these little moments," he quipped as he pulled out a gleaming blade, "that you just have to..."

The barreling roar of the Impala came through the door, buckling it down until only a part of the wall and the door frame stood. Castiel was out of the car in seconds, running towards a trapped Dean with all the last of his power raining down and splotches of blood dripping from his nose to his shoes. He had only desired to give his life this much once before.

"Angelus, you will..."

Angelus merely blinked as the threat held in Castiel's tongue. He found himself staggering for breath as Angelus moved slowly, almost making a sweeping circle around Castiel's body. "You people must take me for a fool. Didn't anyone tell you how smart I am?"

Castiel fell to his knees, turning red as though he were choking. He was shivering with rage and tears of blood were moving down his cheeks as well as chin. Angelus merely continued moving around the invisible circle. "Oh please just stop. You're embarrassing yourself in front of your human."

Castiel looked between the man and the vampire, feeling fear strike into his adrenaline. "I've actually had some time to learn something about warding spells since the last time we met and guess what? There's a lot of ways to kill a former angel. Yeah, seems that you're not really welcome in either circle and I would say that the asphyxiation ward is just about one of the more creative."

Angelus patted Castiel on the shoulder as he used his free hand to caress the bulge in his pants. "The beauty of it, angel, is that you won't really pass out before you get to watch me cut out his tongue and then fuck him to death. And I hope you enjoy every last minute of it."

He moved back toward a shaking Dean, leaving Castiel to quiver and to put all of his strength and heart into getting to a place where he could be useful. He wouldn't give up, couldn't let Dean or Sam die-most of all Dean.

"Dean!" He managed to croak out before he felt the last of his power slip out of the sieve. He felt breath coming back to him as the ward that recognized him as an angelic being fell. He collapsed inward with the rush of air.

Angelus turned as Castiel staggered to his feet. "Great, so now what are you gonna do? Attack me as a puny human? Want to set yourself on the spit to roast while you're at it?"

"Won't have to," the gruff voice made his reply as he ran toward Angelus. Angelus bared his fangs and moved supremely toward the former angel, ready to strike hard with his weapon when he felt it. The stake that Castiel had put up his sleeve under direct orders from Willow in a dream he had kept to himself.

It stunned Angelus, to say the least. He felt his body begin to fall away from reality, watched as it shook into dust. He tried to look around, tried to call for some dark god to help him. But, wouldn't you know it? They all seemed to be out to lunch just then.

Castiel stumbled through the puddle of ashes, scattering them to the corners of the room and under the soles of his feet.

"Thank you," Dean gasped, "for having that trick up your sleeve. I was really starting to think we were screwed."

"Don't mention it, Dean. I'd give up a lot more for you if I had to."

Fingers brushed against rope and skin. "These knots, Dean, I'm sorry. Its gonna take a couple of minutes."

"Hell, its fine. You could go leave me to try and fine Sam, though."

Castiel shook his head. "Not gonna happen. Not with Drusilla on the loose. Want to make sure you're safe first. You're my first priority."

"Cas, man..."

They heard the scream then, causing Dean to send Castiel away to find Sam before "something happened". And it was really lucky that Castiel stopped Sam when he did. The reaction to the sedative in the blood had had quite an effect on him and he was found throttling Drusilla with his mind when Castiel hit him over the head with a two by four and then proceeded to chase Drusilla away with a stake. He underestimated her just in enough time to throw one holy water grenade and hear it splash in the grass past the window she escaped from.

Sam fell wearily against Castiel's side once he recognized the former angel as friendly. It wasn't something any of them ever wished to go through again though and Sam was quite happy to find that Dean had acquired pants by the time he had been helped into the back of the Impala. Castiel was too polite to say anything regarding Dean with or without pants.


End file.
